Irene, You Ruined My Weekend, Damn You*

My friend Dr. P's birthday is today. (Happy birthday!) My friend Caitlin's birthday is tomorrow. We had parties planned up the wazoo for both days. We had brunch plans with some friends from London. Now, I am stuck spending the weekend holed up with Husband. (Terrible, I know. When I "complained" to him about this, e told me that I better stock up on books. If the power doesn't go out, I'm going to submit short works to lit magazines. If it does go out, I will work on writing until the battery on my laptop dies.)
I'm very curious to see if this turns out to be an insane storm or if elected officials are overreacting because they massively fucked up during a snowstorm in December that paralyzed the city. Coney Island, Brighton Beach, the Rockaways, and other beach areas in Brooklyn and Queens are being completely evacuated. The entire public transportation system is being shut down at noon on Sat. (Never has that been done before.) This means that no one will be able to get to work on Saturday unless they live within walking distance, which means no stores or restaurants or anything will be open. It's going to be interesting.

In 1999, the city freaked out when Hurricane Floyd headed our way. Then nothing happened. part of me hopes nothing will happen, but then I'll be mad that we spent all this money preparing for the storm and disrupted so many businesses and people's work schedules. I can only imagine how much this is going to hurt them in an economic environment that already is causing so much hardship.

Unrelated to Irene, but equally horrifying, I realized that the woman who cleans our apartment must think we are total sickos. First there was the veiny dildo on my nightstand. Then last night, I realized that she folded a blanket we keep in the living room (for watching TV or when guests sleep over) and placed it dead center on the giant stuffed penis, which she placed on top of a folded up pack and play. I will not be surprised if she demands a raise.